In Three Acts
by Imadra Blue
Summary: In three acts, young Anakin learns what really belongs to him. Gen, but with two background pairings, one het and one slash.


**Disclaimer:** Star Wars and all its characters are property of Lucasfilm Ltd. No copyright infringement is intended.  
**Notes:** It could be seen as Anakin/Obi-Wan pre-slash, if you squint. Written in thanks to Leighm, who'd requested any sort of Anakin. This is gen, but there is background Shmi/OMC and Qui-Gon/Obi-Wan.

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**I. **

Even as a slave, Anakin Skywalker had things that belonged to him. Things like his mother. No one else had his mother, other than Watto, but even then, she only belonged to Watto in name, not spirit. She loved Anakin, and that made her his in a way that went beyond slave bonds and transmitters.

There was a man, once, who thought Shmi belonged to him as she did Anakin. Anakin didn't think much of him. He was another slave, who worked for Nisbeth the Tailor and was as tall and thin as Watto was short and squat. Anakin never could remember the man's name, even though the man came every day to see Shmi. There was always a smile on his worn face, and some small gift in his long hands. Anakin didn't understand at first, when Shmi said he had good hands – nimble hands.

It was the night after his eighth birthday. He went to see his mother after a nightmare – one of being trapped in a suit of darkness and metal – expecting to find comfort and her roughened hands smoothing down his hair. Instead, he found her in bed with the Tailor's slave. The blanket slipped down their naked bodies as they thrashed around. Even at eight years of age, Anakin knew what they were doing – innocence was not something a slave kept for long.

Something red and hot obscured his vision, and Anakin flung himself at the Tailor's slave. The man cried out and rolled away from his mother. Anakin pummeled him over and over with his small fists, not caring when the man begged for mercy. He would make him understand, he would show him – Shmi belonged to Anakin and Anakin alone.

"Anakin!"

Shmi pulled Anakin off, holding his arms by his side. The Tailor's slave slid off the bed, his dark hair covering his long face. He hid his nakedness behind the thin mattress and turned his face to Shmi.

"Leave," she said, "just leave."

The man grabbed his clothes and left without a word. Shmi let Anakin go and pulled her sheets over herself, a strange expression on her face. It took Anakin a moment to realize she was angry – he'd never seen her like that before.

He waited for her to chastise him, but all she did was turn away. "Go back to bed, Anakin," she said.

He did as he was told, stung more than if she had slapped him.

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**II.**

It was easy to assume, at least at first, that Qui-Gon belonged to Anakin. Since, Anakin had to leave Shmi behind to become a Jedi, he assumed Qui-Gon would take her place. He seemed happy to explain things to Anakin, to offer him comfort in the way Shmi usually did.

It was the night before his testing. Anakin had another nightmare – this time of falling into a river of fire – and he went straight to Qui-Gon's room. The door slid open easily, and Anakin entered.

The room was cast in silver, and the window open. A cool breeze drifted into the room, setting the sheer curtains afloat. As Anakin approached, he realized there were two figures sleeping on Qui-Gon's large bed.

On one side was Qui-Gon, naked from the waist up, his arm draped over Obi-Wan's back. Obi-Wan lay beside him on his stomach. Obi-Wan's nude body was tangled in the sheets, pale skin a ghostly white in the moonlight.

The burning in his chest began afresh, and Anakin almost tossed himself onto Obi-Wan, to pummel him as he had the Tailor's slave. What gave him pause was when he saw Obi-Wan wasn't asleep at all. Obi-Wan was awake and staring at Anakin.

The look on Obi-Wan's face wasn't hostile, nor was it friendly. He lay where he was, perfectly still in Qui-Gon's embrace, though his gaze remained fixed on Anakin. His eyes appeared dark in the gloom.

Anakin stared back, feeling the heat in his chest settle to his stomach, where it twisted and coiled like a snake. Obi-Wan's fingers curled around the sheets, bunching them. He narrowed his eyes.

It was then that Anakin realized that Qui-Gon didn't belong to him at all; he'd been mistaken. Qui-Gon belonged to Obi-Wan, and it was Anakin who was like the Tailor's slave.

The fire still twisting in his belly, Anakin tiptoed out of the room and went back to the sleeping couch Qui-Gon had given him.

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**III.**

It had never occurred to Anakin that Obi-Wan would belong to him, when all was said and done. But Qui-Gon was dead, and Obi-Wan was to train Anakin and care for him. Anakin found the idea strange. He wasn't sure if Obi-Wan was capable of caring for anything but Qui-Gon.

It was the night after the Naboo victory parade. Another nightmare had plagued Anakin's sleep, this time of a burning blade severing his limbs. The flash of pain still aching in his bones, Anakin left his bunk and headed for Obi-Wan's.

Anakin was very quiet as he walked. The light of the stars racing by the viewport gave him enough light to see Obi-Wan lying on his duracotton mattress, a hand pressed to the transparisteel viewport. As Anakin's bare feet padded on the metal floor, Obi-Wan sat up, his sheets sliding down to reveal his bare chest. Seeing his pale skin glisten made Anakin want to touch him, to see if he was as waterfat and moist as he looked.

Obi-Wan said nothing as Anakin approached him, but he'd said very little since Qui-Gon's funeral. Anakin imagined he missed Qui-Gon as Anakin missed Shmi – perhaps even more. A sudden fear that Obi-Wan would leave possessed Anakin – he didn't want to lose anything else that belonged to him.

"What's wrong, Anakin?" Obi-Wan asked.

"Will you find someone else?" Anakin blurted after a moment.

Obi-Wan stared at him, blinking. "What do you mean? My duty is to guide you to become a Jedi Knight. I can't have more than one apprentice."

"I know, but will you find someone else? To sleep in your bed? And take you away?"

Obi-Wan turned his face away from Anakin, but the starlight caught his profile, allowing Anakin to see him better. His eyes were rimmed with red, and his Adam's apple bobbed up and down. "Of course not. My duty is to you now."

Anakin touched Obi-Wan's cheek, feeling warm skin and hard bone beneath his fingertips. He found moisture there, whether from sweat or tears, he could not say. "Good," he said, and licked the salty fluid from his fingers.

Shmi was no longer his, and Qui-Gon had been murdered, but somehow Anakin knew that Obi-Wan would always belong to him.

_End._


End file.
